


Imagine how Charles and Erik would react to a genderfluid student

by forestofmyown



Category: X-Men (Movies), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Gen, Gender Issues, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Genderfluid Character, M/M, Other, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-01
Updated: 2015-06-01
Packaged: 2018-04-02 08:14:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4052935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forestofmyown/pseuds/forestofmyown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Originally posted on tumblr:  http://imaginexmen.tumblr.com/post/102466744359/title-imagine-how-charles-and-erik-would-react</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on tumblr: http://imaginexmen.tumblr.com/post/102466744359/title-imagine-how-charles-and-erik-would-react

Standing on the front steps of the towering mansion, you take in a deep breath and let out a long, slow sigh.

The building is gorgeous. So is the vast stretches of land surrounding it, all done with a combination of beautiful landscaping and carefully tended forest. Everything about it screams money—and airs. An emphasis on appearances, on what is presented to the world.

Would the people here be that way, too? When Charles and Erik had come to your home to recruit you, it hadn’t seemed that way. But then again, you were getting the sale’s pitch, their best face. Was it natural, honest, sincere, or just a facade to get you here?

Time to find out, you suppose. And best to get the most pressing issue out of the way first.

You step inside. The foyer is large, open and spacious, with a branching grand staircase to the second floor and tall, clear windows letting in waves of natural light. It’s almost too much to be a home. Mansion, indeed.

Not wasting any time, you make your way to Professor Xavier’s office. The knowledge of where that is floats in the forefront of your mind, and you feel uncomfortable at the intrusion, no matter how well intentioned. Charles knows your here and in need of directions, but still. The last thing you want—will tolerate—is someone in your head without your permission.

Pausing outside the door, you roll your shoulders and try to wipe the defensive sneer off your face. The uninvited telepathy has put you in a foul mood, and you’re sorry for it. Not sorry enough not to make him apologize, though. Just sorry to be meeting him again without a smile. Charles had been kind when he’d come to visit. He and Erik both. You like them. This isn’t the start you want here with your new family.

Flexing your fingers, knuckles popping lightly, you work out the tension and knock with three solid thumps.

“Come in, Y/N.”

You fight back bristling. Does he realize he’s doing that? Almost flaunting his foreknowledge, foreknowledge he only has because of that invasion into your mind.

Throwing your shoulders back, you push open the door and stride into the room. You kick it shut again with one foot behind you, hands slipping into your pockets where they can’t give away your tension.

Your entrance is met with two bright smiles; Charles and Erik are grouped together around an unlit fireplace, obviously having just finished a conversation that had them both in a good mood.

Your frown deepens but your brow loosens as your head leans back, evaluating. He doesn’t mean any harm. You’ll still chew him out, but you don’t want to stay mad.

It’s supposed to be a good day. Move in day, welcome day.

You’re nervous. It’s making it easier to be angry—anger buries nerves. You can do this.

Coming out to practical strangers. Not typically easy or fun, but these people are mutants, too. They are your new family. They’ll understand.

“Y/N.” Charles nods at you, clapping his hands together. “Welcome home.”

Home.

“I already took the stuff you had delivered up to your room.” Erik informs you, looking just as pleased. “I can show you up after we’re done here.”

“Sure, thanks.” You nod back, but then turn to Charles. “I’ve got a few things to say first.”

Charles’ smile slips, and you get the feeling he saw at least this part coming. “You’re angry that I communicated with your telepathically earlier-”

“I’m not angry.” You snap. “I am ticked, though. You don’t have permission to be in my head. So don’t be there.”

“I wasn’t in your head, I just spoke to your mind with mine. I picked up none of your thoughts, didn’t give you any of mine. It’s just like speaking out loud, except more private.”

You shift your weight from one leg to the other. “It doesn’t matter if that’s all it was. You can do more. So don’t do anything at all to me or involving me without my permission.”

Charles looks troubled for a moment, then nods. “Alright. I’m sorry.”

“Thank you.” Leaning against the nearest armchair, you cross one ankle over the other. “There’s something else.”

Erik snorts, leering at Charles. “What else did you do? Y/N looks on the warpath today.”

“This is about me, not Charles.” You correct him. “You got my records transferred here from my old school, right? And a copy of my birth certificate with it?”

Now Erik’s brow furrows to match Charles’ confused expression. “Yes, yes we did. Is there a problem with … ?”

“Yes. My gender is wrong on them.”

Both their eyebrows shoot up.

“Really? That’s a pretty big mess up.” Erik comments, glancing up and down your body.

You can feel every muscle in you tense. Erik and Charles both notice, apparently, and look apologetically at each other.

Erik immediately begins to apologize. “I’m sorry-”

You cut him off and stare him down. “How I look may or may not be an indicator of what gender I may be on any given day, so don’t trust that. If you don’t know, ask. Nicely.”

“What?”

“I’m genderfluid.” You make sure to lock eyes with both of them, Erik first, then Charles. “I might be male, female, agender, androgyne, bi or poly gender, it changes. I have no control over the change, it’s just who I am. Sometimes I can change several times a day, sometimes I’ll be the same for months or weeks or even years. I might dress or act differently accordingly, or I might not. How I present is about how I feel and not necessarily a reflection on my gender. So just … refer to me with ‘they’ pronouns and as genderfluid, and I can fill in particulars. This isn’t negotiable, it’s me. Is that understood?”

They are both staring at you. You swallow, glaring back despite your nerves. Will they accept you? Will they toss you out? How could they when they preach so much acceptance in regards to mutant powers and such? This is your gender.

“Does this … ” Charles trails off and waves his hand while he tries to think. “Does this have something to do with your mutation?”

“No.” The word is fierce and final.

“I-I mean, it’s just that I’ve never heard of-”

“Charles.” Erik interrupts, still looking at you and not his friend. His face is set and hard. “Don’t. Think of this as a learning experience. Y/N is here, they exist. If you want information, ask if you can ask them.”

Charles nods thoughtfully and gives you a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry. May I?”

“Not today,” you reply. “But … some other time. If I’m up for it.”

Charles’ face lights up. “Certainly. What a wonderful learning experience. Genderfluid.”

Erik rolls his eyes. “They’re a person, Charles, not a lab rat.”

“I didn’t mean it like that. Humanity itself is just so fascinating, so full of variables and different possible experiences that it’s so amazing to think that even with my knowledge there’s still so much out there. I thought mutants were enough, but just people in general, things I thought I already knew … ”

He trails off, and he really does look lost in the wonder of it, in discovering something new about something he thought he had figured out.

“The change isn’t physical?”

Slowly, you shake your head. “Don’t ask about my body, Charles. It’s none of your business.”

Immediately, Charles agrees. “Of course. Whatever you say, Y/N. I’ll let the other students know, if that’s what you want-”

You shift again, uncomfortably.

“-but I can tell them to be respectful and bring any questions to me if you don’t want to be pestered about it.”

“That … sounds good.” You nod.

“Alright then.” Erik steps forward. “Ready to see your new room?”

Slowly, you grin. “Yeah.”

He gives you a matching smile and a slap on the back as he leads the way. You wave to Charles as you follow him out, and Charles waves back.

“You handled that well.” You say, catching up to Erik and matching stride beside him. You’re in a much better mood now, you have to admit, and more inclined to make conversation.

“I knew quite a lot of people who weren’t the gender people tried to tell them they were when I was younger.” He smiles at you, but it’s forced and hitches a bit, not reaching his eyes. “The world wasn’t any safer for them than it was for me.”

He lets out a deep breath, looking ahead; not at the stretch of hallway, but somewhere else.

“We’re changing that here. At least, for mutants. I’d hope for transsexuals, too.”

Quietly, you say, “Transgender is the more accepted term now a days.”

He smiles, and this time, it’s real. “Is it? I’m afraid I’m years out of the loop. Seems like it’s time to fix that.”

“I think Charles would love to be right there with you on that.”

“Good. Expanding and keeping our curriculum up to date here is a big concern.”

Pulling your arms in closer to your body, your walk slows a bit, your feet starting to take steps closer together. You roll your neck.

“I’m glad. I’d expect nothing less … from my new home.”

Reaching up, you run your fingers through your hair, ruffling it, and stretch, feeling your gait begin to smooth out and sway slightly.

Erik watches you with a curious smile.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted on tumblr: http://imaginexmen.tumblr.com/post/104604481109/title-why-erik-shouldnt-be-in-charge-of

You’re holding an ice pack to your face, sporting a mean bruise and a split lip. Your head hurts and your knuckles ache and your face is swelling and the world hasn’t quite stopped spinning yet, but it’s not the first time someone has railed on you and it probably won’t be the last, even if your mutant abilities now make you a bigger concern. Maybe because of that.

Charles is handling your assailant in a different wing of the mansion. You have been assured swift justice and a fitting punishment for the guilty party. And you left a few marks of your own. That always feels good.

So the X-mansion hasn’t turned out to be the peaceful haven you had hoped for. It’s still better by far than a regular school, where both your gender and your mutation are giant bulls-eyes.

For the most part, the mansion has been better. But no place is perfect. Just because someone is willing to accept genetic mutations doesn’t mean they ‘believe’ in your gender.

The sound of sizzling buzzes in your ear, and you smile a bit as you’re pulled from your thoughts. The smell is heavenly, too. Erik, in charge of your discipline and medical attention, as per Charles’ orders, is currently frying up a storm across the kitchen range. Bacon and eggs and pancakes are all taking up various skillets, and the chef is donning a white apron and weilding a mental control over the metal appliences so fascinating it’s hard to look away.

He stands still between the stove and the island you’re seated at, a statue except for his hands, who twitch and wave every so often when his concentration needs a little help. He is, after all, adjusting temperatures for five different burners and shaking just as many skillets, keeping the cooking foods lightly tossed and not sticking.

You adjust the cold ice pack and lean forward onto the counter. “Why breakfast? It’s past noon.”

Erik shoots you a glance over his shoulder and it morphs into a smile. Keeping his eyes on you, he flips a pancake and only manages to catch half of it in the skillet. He turns back to it and scowls before levitating a spatula up to fix the mess.

“I like breakfast. Especially when it’s not breakfast time.” He winks at you.

You grin back. “And you just assumed everyone else does, too?”

He gives you the side eyes again, brows raised knowingly. “I’ve seen you eat breakfast.”

“At breakfast time.”

“And now you’ll enjoy breakfast on Erik-time.”

You can’t resist that bait, and don’t even try to. You bat your eyes at him, perching a hand on your knee. “What else do I get to enjoy during Erik-time?”

The skillet currently dumping bacon onto an empty plate catches the edge of the dish and flips upside down, enveloping the food. You and Erik both stare at it for a few moments before meeting each other’s gazes. And laughing.


End file.
